Computing

So slow things areLike a winter morning with no sightIt kills me to see all these thingsWith no passion or linguisticallyI cannot ponder to questionYet rain is everything all at onceCaring for the world is not easyConclusions like this are unappropriated

The things I write mean nothingThe things I think are everythingBreathing the heartaches of your thoughtsOverbearing the world of its providenceThey dismay the morality of humankindGoals like this are faulty in every wayThe end is to close and the start is right here